


The Originals: The Hunger Games.

by Aeruthin



Series: TO Hunger Games AU Verse [1]
Category: The Originals (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Careers (Hunger Games), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Forced Marriage, Forced Prostitution, Gen, Hunger Games, Hunger Games-Typical Death/Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mercy Killing, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, The Mikaelsons are Careers, Trauma, mentions of - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:47:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26559952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeruthin/pseuds/Aeruthin
Summary: It is the 58th annual Hunger Games, and careers Klaus Mikaelson and Rebekah Mikaelson are chosen as tributes for District 1.Mentored by their older brother Elijah, victor of the 56th Hunger Games, they must prepare for one of the most dangerous years yet.Because the game isn't only played in the arena.And the goal isn't victory.It is rebellion.
Relationships: Elijah Mikaelson & Freya Mikaelson, Elijah Mikaelson & Klaus Mikaelson, Elijah Mikaelson & Rebekah Mikaelson, Elijah Mikaelson/Tatia (kind of), Finn Mikaelson & Freya Mikaelson, Klaus Mikaelson & Rebekah Mikaelson
Series: TO Hunger Games AU Verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1975357
Comments: 26
Kudos: 53





	1. May the odds be forever in our favour

“Ladies and Gentleman, it is the 58th annual Hunger Games, and I tell you, this year is promising to be the most spectacular yet!

While absent last year, the Mikaelson family is back, offering not one, but TWO siblings for the games. Yes, you heard that right!

In a striking turn of events, Niklaus Mikaelson volunteered as tribute to stand alongside his sister Rebekah, taking the place of her friend and lover Marcel Gerard.

Both Rebekah and Klaus will mentored by their older brother Elijah, who, as you all surely remember, emerged victorious two years prior after he devastatingly killed his true love Tatia Petrova. Who still gets tears in their eyes rewatching that moment? I sure do, I will admit it!

But Rebekah and Klaus are not the only brother-sister pair to attend the Games this year, no they are not. The Mikaelson siblings are pitted against Tristan and Aurora De Martel of district 2, who volunteered together. 

So as you can see, my dear watchers, the games are not just about survival. It is about family and love. We are sure to see hardship and betrayal. Tragedy is bound to occur, but we all thrive on angst do we not?

There will a poll coming up soon as to who you think is going to win the Hunger Games this year, so stayed tuned or comment on our forum!

We now turn to our family exp–”

The broadcast cuts off abruptly and silence fills the small room.

“Well, then,” Freya Mikaelson says, flicking on the light. The left side of her body is disfigured by scars, and she misses two fingers on her left hand. The general population thought she had died in the 54th Hunger Games, sacrificing herself for her brother Finn, who had been victorious. 

But she had escaped, had found a way to avoid the cameras and surveillance of the Capitol. In four years, she had gathered like minded people, those who would dare oppose the ruling class.

Now, with her two younger siblings in danger, it was time to execute their plans.

“Are you ready?“ she asks, her eyes sweeping the room and landing on her younger brother.

Elijah Mikaelson’s lips curl up in a dangerous smile.

“May the odds be forever in our favour.“


	2. No remedy for Memory

_Two Years Earlier_

The eyes of the gathered crowd burn on his skin as Elijah makes his way towards the elevated table belonging to the Mikaelson family. Some of the attendees nod at him with exaggerated sympathy, their pitying glances framed by the heavy make up and excessive hairdo of the upper class.

As if they could ever understand. As if they had been there with him, in those final moments of the game.

In a way they had been.

It had been broadcasted to the entire country after all.

He is shaking by the time he reaches the table. The side panels provide a blessed illusion of privacy and gratefully, he sinks into the cushions of the round seat.

The Mikaelson high table is not as grandly decorated as those surrounding it. While his father was keen on maintaining their public appearance, the image he wanted to portray was one of brutal efficiency, not extravagance.

Elijah wore basic clothes, and only a single line of dark charcoal beneath his eyes. It would have been frowned upon, had he not been the latest victor in a family of victors.

Mikael, his father, had killed more than half of his fellow tributes, a record which was still unbroken. His mother Esther had used the opposite strategy, reserving her strength while she pitted her fellow tributes against each other, until those remaining could easily be slaughtered.

Since they were both careers of district one, and of similar age, their union had been inevitable. Their children, in turn, had no choice but to continue their legacy, and Mikael and Esther had made it their mission to give them the best fighting chance they had.

But their effort had been negated when Elijah’s two oldest siblings had been chosen in the reaping at the same time. Only one could win. Finn had survived, while Freya had not.

“A drink, sir?”

Elijah snaps his head up, startled, whole body tense. His fingers automatically search for a weapon, but of course, there is none.

“Just water please,” he rasps.

_Dead_ , his mind screeches at him. _You would have been dead!_

He shivers, closing his eyes as the waitress walks away, her steps slightly faster than before.

Ordering alcohol to numb his mind was growing more tempting by the day, if only to provide him temporary relief from the images that still haunted him. But Finn’s dead eyes and swaying gait, and his father’s red, angry face have stopped him.

Elijah couldn’t afford that. He couldn’t afford to fall apart.

As he sips from the water, the rest of his family arrives. Mikael is flanked by Kol and Rebekah, while Niklaus trails behind, head held low. They had been training, and no doubt each of them supports new bruises.

Kol and Rebekah slip into the round seat first, and followed by Mikael. Niklaus’ only choice is to either take a seat next to their father, or block Elijah’s exit.

Their eyes meet, and Elijah’s own flash of panic is mirrored in his younger brother.

Elijah stands quickly.

“Come Niklaus,” he says smoothly, covering up the way his chest had constricted. “Why don’t you sit next to Rebekah?”

He allows Niklaus to sit first before sliding back on his seat. Niklaus bumps his knee under the table in gratitude.

Mikael eyes the exchange disapprovingly, but thankfully doesn’t comment.

The waitress returns to take up their order, and their drinks arrive slightly later.

Kol is chatting happily about a new weapon he tried out, a war axe with a cylinder which could be filled with poison, given that that was present in the arena.

“What about you, Niklaus?” Mikael asks. “How would you take advantage of such a weapon?”

Niklaus blinks, mouth gaping. He knows the answer, of that Elijah is sure. Niklaus had done well enough when they had trained together before. His brother has a good eye for plants. He was mostly interested in using the colors for paint, but the same procedure of extracting the pigment could be used for the poison.

Elijah nudges his brother with his foot in a way he hopes is encouraging.

“Well…” Niklaus starts, voice trembling. He reaches for his juice, buying himself some time.

“You could, uhm…”

His hands are shaking. His fingers miss the glass, and in a flare of panic, he knocks over his glass. The liquid spills over the table, and Elijah quickly pulls his arms away.

“You fool!” Mikael huffs.

Niklaus flinches, desperately pulling out some napkins from the dispenser to stop the juice from running on the floor.

“Don’t worry,” Elijah says. The juice has seeped into his sleeve so he takes a napkin and presses it against his arm.

“I’ll get the waitress, they can-”

The stain doesn’t disappear.

Annoyed, Elijah wipes at it more frantically.

“They can help-”

A high pitched screech starts to ring in his ears.

The juice is red. Just like…

Mikael is still shouting, and Niklaus looks up at Elijah worriedly, but their voices are muffled.

He can’t breath.

Tatia stares up at him with pained filled eyes.

His sleeves are drenched her blood.

The forest floor is drenched in her blood.

No.

Elijah stumbles away from the table, heedless of the looks his family sends him.

Hide. He has to hide.

Blindly, he pushes himself through the crowd, and crashes through the door of the men’s restroom.

He has barely reached one of the stalls when his stomach heaves. Retching, he collapses down next to the decorated toilet bowl, throwing up the little food he had managed to eat.

His whole body is shaking, and his breath comes in panicked gasps.

“You have to kill me,” Tatia whispers in his ear, so quietly not even the microphones can pick it up. She leads his hand up beneath her shirt, right below her breasts. To the audience, it would seem like an intimate moment, one last chance for the lovers to be together before their final stand against the three other remaining tributes.

His fingers touch the swollen flesh around the bite. The poison would kill her, whether she was victorious or not.

“No,” he mumbles, pressing his head against the cool stone of the toilet. “No, please.”

“He needs you, Elijah,” Tatia continues. “Klaus needs you.”

Tears are spilling over his cheeks.

“I can’t do this,” he whispers desperately.

Three resounding booms fill the air as the other tributes fall, and then there is only the two of them left.

Tatia turns to him, determined.

They fight. It is brutal, and fierce, and it is all for show.

She is dying. His brother needs him.

The final BOOM is deafening.

“Elijah?”

Elijah jerks up, fists flying up in defence.

“Brother, it is me.”

Niklaus.

Elijah sinks back against the cold wall, only now realizing how lucky he was that the stalls were empty. He is completely drained, and all he wants to do is curl up and hide from the world.

Niklaus looks down at him, eyes filled with worry.

“I’m fine,” Elijah rasps. Hysterical laughter bubbles up in his throat at that statement. Who is he trying to fool?

He forces the laughter away.

His brother needs him.

With one hand against the wall for support, he pushes himself upright. His legs are shaking, but he manages to stand.

Niklaus has grabbed a towel, and Elijah wipes it over his face. The eye liner leaves dark stains, so Elijah throws it in the trash bin when he is done.

“Elijah?”

Niklaus shuffles his feet nervously, and Elijah sighs.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he says gently.

Niklaus shakes his head.

“No, that’s not…”

He holds out a piece of paper. Elijah frowns and takes it carefully. The paper is thick, and one side is decorated with the Mikaelson M, giving it legal status. On the other side is a message written in dark swirly letters.

_Victor Elijah Mikaelson is requested to attend suite 1382 in the Capitol State Hotel, this evening at…_

Elijah goes completely still.

“A man came up, and Father send me to find you,” Niklaus says in a small voice.

Elijah nods. His mind is blank. It was only a matter of time before he was requested, but somehow, the news refuses to land.

“You’ll need to fix your eyeliner. I can help.”

Niklaus pulls out a stick of dark charcoal from his inner pocket. He must have nicked it from the dressing table for one of his drawings.

Elijah sinks down on one of the closed toilet seats. Niklaus’ fingers move deftly across his face, trailing feather light touches on Elijah’s skin.

Elijah leans into him.

Please don’t stop.

He doesn’t say the words out loud, and Niklaus pulls away far too quickly.

Elijah takes a deep breath and looks at himself in the mirror. His brother has added intricate details, somehow balancing the simplicity of the charcoal with a more refined style.

“Thank you. It looks beautiful.” 

Niklaus smiles shyly.

For a split second, Elijah thinks of running. Take Niklaus. Take Rebekah and Kol, and leave. They could falsify their identities, take the train to the outer districts, disappear into the crowds.

Niklaus had asked it once in the deep of the night when he had sneaked into Elijah’s bedroom, only days before the reaping.

It seemed impossible then.

It is impossible now.

Elijah is famous. Their whole family is. They wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Walk with me?” he asks instead.

Niklaus nods, and together they leave the restroom.

Elijah doesn’t know what to expect. Finn had never been forthcoming about the times when he was requested.

But Elijah would weather it.

For Niklaus’ sake, if nothing else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from [Dark Paradise](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4e97neNvxB4) by Lana Del Rey


	3. What You Sow is What You Reap

"Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the fifty eighth annual Hunger Games!"

The voice of District 1's Escort, Sarah Lewiss, and the accompanying roar of the audience are muffled by the large doors leading towards the Grand Victor's Hall.

Impatiently, Rebekah taps her shoe against the ground. Her dress is itching, and it is hot in the waiting room. 

Officially, the potential tributes are not allowed to talk, but small groups have formed between the other fourteen year old girls. None of them have approached her, though. Instead they glance at her fearfully whenever they think she is not looking. 

She isn't particularly bothered by being excluded -she is a Mikaelson after all-, but it does make the wait incredibly boring.

Marcel is standing with the other fifteen year olds boys, a confident grin on his face. Silently, she sneaks forward, but he looks up at the wrong moment. A blush creeps up her cheeks when he catches her approach.. 

Her heart flutters as he smiles at her.

"Hey," Marcel says. "You ready for the reaping?"

Rebekah shrugs absent-mindedly. Her family wasn't going to join the Games this year, so the reaping is a mere formality. Her mind is already on the festivities which are held afterward. 

She takes a deep breath. 

"Will you dance with me later?" she blurts out. 

Marcel's smile widens, but before he can reply, Kol appears out of nowhere, throwing his arm around Marcel's shoulder. 

"Of course he will, Sister," Kol purrs. He tightens his hold, and Marcel winches. 

"If he knows what is good for him at least."

"Go away, Kol," Rebekah huffs.

Kol laughs. "Come on, Bex, no need to be mean."

"You're stupid," Rebekah hisses, promising herself that she would give Kol a proper beating during their training tomorrow. 

Luckily, their fight is interrupted by a loud horn, indicating the start of the reaping.

When Rebekah shuffles back in line, Nik looks back at her from where is standing among the sixteen year olds. He winks, and she smiles back. Never mind her idiot brother Kol. At least Nik wasn't _always_ a prat.

Another horn sounds, and slowly, the doors to the Grand Victor's Hall open.

Finally. She can't wait for it to be over.

\----

The roar of the audience washes over Klaus and his fellow tributes as they make their way towards the elevated platform at the end of the hall.

Klaus is shaking slightly when they finally come to a halt. Even though he has attended the reaping four times now, the sheer enormity of the event still overwhelms him.

On the elevated platform, he can distinguish his parents and his two older brothers on decorated benches, positioned next to the other victors and their cohorts. Accompanying a victor to the reaping was considered a great honour. Many had vied for a place at Elijah's side, but his brother had masterfully declined all requests.

As if on cue, the camera pans to the Mikaelson family, enlarging them on the enormous screen above the platform, focussing on each of them in turn.

Mikael is sitting with his back straight, eagerly inspecting the tributes. Esther has one hand on his arm and whispers softly to him, no doubt discussing who they expect to volunteer. Both are wearing practical clothing, in contrast to the lavish style of the victors surrounding them.

Next to them is Finn, who is slouching in his chair and stares off into the distance. His hands are clasped in front of his mouth and are shaking slightly. On the table in front of him are three empty cocktail glasses. 

Elijah, seated closest to the audience, is wearing a suit which perfectly balances simplicity and the stylized fashion of the upper class. His fingers drum ceaselessly on the armrest of the chair, but when he notices the camera, he takes up his drink with a small smile and lifts it in a salute to the audience before he takes a small sip. 

A concert of cheers and high pitched screams fills the hall in response, originating mostly from the female attendees. 

Elijah smirks, and the image cuts back to Sarah Lewiss, who pretends to fan herself. She chuckles along with the audience, before gesturing to the gathered youngsters.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present you... District 1's potential tributes?"

Applause rises up from the audience, and Klaus shivers. 

"But first, a word directly from the Capitol!"

The Anthem starts playing, and voice over highlights how the Games are a reminder of the lives lost during the Rebellion, almost sixty years ago. Klaus has seen similar movies a thousand times, and he doesn't bother to listen to the actual words.

He turns slightly and catches Rebekah's eye. He raises his eyebrows and imitates the voice over mockingly, pulling a face. She chuckles and he grins back.

Only when the images fade and Sarah Lewiss speaks up he pays attention again. 

"Wonderful, wonderful. Well, I'll no longer keep you waiting. It is finally time for the moment you all have been waiting for."

Her whitened teeth appear monstrously enlarged on the screen.

"Of course, we have prepared something special for you. Let's bring it in!"

The main lights dim as the large doors behind the stage open. Confused but excited whispers rise from the audience, and people strain their neck to catch a glimpse. The camera alternates from their anxious expressions to the doors and back, heightening the tension.

Two large spheres are rolled unto the stage. They are enormous, and it takes four men pulling and four men pushing to get one moving.

The spotlights swirl towards them, and the diamonds inside light up. Colourful spots dance over the walls, and the audience gasps. Even Klaus has to admit the effect is beautiful. 

"As you can see, these spheres are filled with District 1's greatest joy, our diamonds. And our tributes deserve nothing less to represent them! Who will be chosen?"

Klaus rolls his eyes. The random drawing is a farce. The tributes have been decided long before the reaping, after careful planning and negotiation between the Careers and their mentors. As soon as the drawing is over, the real tribute would volunteer.

The camera swirls to the first sphere. 

"Ladies first!"

With an enormous handle, the sphere is forced to turn. The diamonds rattle inside, and Klaus grits his teeth against the sound. 

He wonders what Henrik must be thinking right now. He is with Ayana, and like every citizen of Panem who can not attend the reaping live, they are watching from home. No doubt the sound will be replaced though. 

Sarah Lewiss removes a lever, and one single diamond drops down into a basket. The camera zooms in, revealing runes etched into the stone, but Sarah Lewiss removes the diamond before the name can be deciphered.

She walks back to the centre of the stage.

"Here we have it. Are you ready?"

The audience boos and yells impatiently and she laughs.

"The female tribute for district one is..."

Almost too quick to miss, Sarah Lewiss frowns.

"The female tribute is..." she says again, voice slightly wavering. She flashes a fake smile.

"Rebekah Mikaelson!"


	4. For You, There is Nothing in This World I Wouldn't Do

_"The female tribute is..." she says again, voice slightly wavering. She flashes a fake smile._

_"Rebekah Mikaelson!"_

Deadly silence has settled over the hall.

The spotlights swirl to Rebekah, singling her out amid the other girls. Her panicked gaze finds Klaus', but he can only stare in shock.

This is not supposed to happen.

Four peacekeepers escort Rebekah to the podium. 

"Rebekah!" Sarah Lewiss says with fake cheer. "Welcome!"

Klaus can't breathe. His heart is hammering in his chest as he strains his ears.

Any moment now, the real female tribute would volunteer.

Any moment now, Rebekah could return to her spot, and they would laugh about the scare afterwards.

"Do you have anything to say?" Sarah Lewiss asks, holding the microphone out to Rebekah.

She shakes her head, trembling.

"Alright then."

Sarah Lewiss swallows nervously. She is stalling, waiting for the expected shout. The camera pans to Mikael, who is furious, his hands clenched on the armrests of his seat.

It remains deadly silent.

Rebekah is entering the games.

A roar fills Klaus' ears. A forceful hand grabs his arm and pulls him back, and he realizes that he has taken a step forward.

Sarah Lewiss gestures for the other sphere to turn, but Klaus barely notices.

What has happened?

Both Klaus and Kol were supposed to enter the Games before Rebekah would even be considered. 

Sarah Lewiss' voice snaps Klaus back to the present. 

"Joining Rebekah as District 1's male tribute is... Marcel Gerard!"

The hungry eyes of the audience trail Marcel as he takes up his place next to Rebekah, wide eyed and shaking. 

Wrong. This is all wrong.

Marcel is Rebekah's friend.

He would not be able to protect her.

"I volunteer!"

The shout pierces the murmur of the audience, and for a second, Klaus can't believe it is his own voice.

"I volunteer as tribute!" he yells again, more confident this time.

He pulls free of the peacekeeper. On the large screen, he can see himself stepping out of line. He swallows and focusses on the stairs leading up to the podium, forcing himself to put one foot in front of the other.

Mikael and Elijah have both jumped to their feet, and are held back by four peacekeepers. For a split second, Klaus meets his brother's panicked gaze. Then he turns towards the faceless audience. He has no time to acknowledge Marcel before he is led away.

"Well well!" Sarah Lewiss exclaims. "What an unexpected turn of events."

Klaus slips his hand in Rebekah's, who desperately squeezes back. Up close, he can see the tears on her cheeks. 

"How courageous," Sarah Lewiss continues. "Are you here to protect your sister?"

Klaus stares at her, unable to form words. 

"Of course you are. Your family must be so proud."

Hysterical laughter bubbles up in Klaus' throat.

None of this was supposed to happen. 

Sarah Lewiss turns back towards the audience.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the tributes for District 1:

Klaus and Rebekah Mikaelson!"

An enormous roar shakes the building. In the chaos, Sarah Lewiss places her hands on his and Rebekah's shoulders.

"Come along now," she says. 

Klaus staggers after her, Rebekah's hand still tightly clasped in his. They are led through the large doors, and into a luxurious room beyond. In the center stands a large sofa. On a silver plate on the side table are twelve delicate sweets and bottle of wine.

On the long wall, visible immediately on entrance, hang nine portraits, one for each victor of District 1. Elijah's picture, which was taken during the Victory Tour, is the last one. 

"Wait here," Sarah Lewiss says.

The moment she is gone, the side doors are thrown open and Elijah enters. With a sob, Rebekah throws herself in his arms. Elijah presses his nose in her hair and shakily breathes in. 

Klaus' throat tightens. The walls sway around him.

He is going to die.

He will never let anything happen to Rebekah.

Which means he is going to die.

"Niklaus-"

Elijah reaches out towards him, desperately, his expression a mixture of concern, panic and dread. Vision blurry with tears, Klaus stumbles towards his brother's embrace. 

But the side doors slam open again, and he flinches back.

"The reaping was rigged," Mikael snarls without preamble as he enters. He is followed by Esther and Sarah Lewiss. 

"The negotiations were solid," Esther adds. "There should have been other volunteers."

"Can we prove it?" Elijah asks. Rebekah has peeled away from him, but his arm is still held protectively around her shoulder.

Mikael laughs, pacing back and forth. "Proof?" he spits. "Negotiations are illegal and they know it."

He stops. Klaus instinctively makes himself smaller as his Father's gaze land on him.

"They want to cripple us. You both could have brought us glory, but now, one victory has been taken from us."

Klaus' body is going numb, the adrenaline seeping away. 

Should he have stayed quiet? Should he have trusted in Rebekah? But she is too young. She isn't ready.

He couldn't let her go into the arena alone.

"It is time," Sarah Lewiss pipes in.

She turns to Mikael, Esther and Elijah, each of whom have a portrait hanging on the wall.

"Who wi-"

"I'm their mentor," Elijah interrupts sharply, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Alright then. Are you ready to say your goodbyes?"

Klaus' heart jumps in his chest, panic jolting him upright again.

"Now?" Rebekah whimpers.

"Niklaus."

Esther is in front of him and cups his cheeks in her hands.

"Be strong. Protect her."

Klaus nods feebly. He might never see her again. 

"Mother-"

But she is already hugging Rebekah, leaving him reeling. 

"One of you wins," Mikael demands. "I don't care who."

An audience has gathered along the road leading from the Victor's Hall to the train station, and flowers and diamonds are thrown in front of their feet. Some of the audience reach out desperately in an attempt to touch them.

When they reach the train, Sarah Lewiss addresses them for a final time.

"Happy Hunger Games. And may the odds be ever in your favour."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title is from Hey Brother, by Avicii


	5. Like We're In Uncharted Territory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: self harm and mentions of self harm.

The train takes off with barely a rumble, and speeds away towards the Capitol - a trip which Klaus has made many times. They often went back and forth between their mansion in the Victor's Village and their house in the Capitol, depending on the scheduled gatherings and festivities. 

Klaus sinks down on one of the couches, and Rebekah curls up next to him, pressing her face in his shoulder. Elijah has locked the door of the cabin after ushering Sarah Lewiss outside, and finally they are truly alone.

"Are you alright?" Elijah asks worriedly, taking his seat opposite of theirs.

Klaus shrugs. He is thoroughly exhausted, but can't seem to sit still. 

"What do we do now?" 

Elijah sighs, and taps with his palm against the side of the chair.

"The reapings of district ten and eight are scheduled next, but it should not cause harm to disregard them for now."

"But we should prepare, should we not?" Klaus asks agitatedly. "Determine a strategy, and-"

"Niklaus."

"- and analyse them for weaknesses, probably take out the other Careers fir-"

"Niklaus!"

Klaus slams his mouth shut.

"The game is rigged."

Elijah's tone can cut glass.

"Rebekah's participation is no accident."

"But..." Rebekah whispers, but Elijah continues. 

"Niklaus, if you volunteered next year you would have won with ease. Now, you have to protect Rebekah."

Rebekah lowers her eyes guiltily, and Klaus squeezes her hand. 

"They will come for you. Inside and outside the arena."

Anger flashes over Elijah's face and he clenches his fist.

"That means no sponsors. No help. They will separate you - and keep you separated- for as long as possible."

Elijah's eyes flicker between them.

"Do not let them."

"I'll protect her," Klaus says.

Elijah's gaze softens. "I know. But you'll need to do more than that, Brother."

He swallows.

"I can't prepare y-" his breath hitches, and he grimaces, briefly closing his eyes. 

" _Nothing_ can prepare you for what you will face in the Games."

Klaus' shivers.

"But you are smart, and you are strong. Both of you."

Elijah leans forward.

"Survive. Find each other, and survive."

"We will," Rebekah answers. She sits up straighter, her chin raised, gazed defiant. Klaus feels a rush of pride.

He is scared, and so is she. But they will make it through this. 

He will not let her die.

\----

It will take at least five more hours before they reach the Capitol, so they put on the projector to watch the reaping in the other districts. Klaus means to pay attention, but the screen becomes a blur of frightened and desolated faces.

After the reaping of District 7, Elijah nudges him gently.

"Niklaus," he whispers, nodding to Rebekah who has fallen asleep against Klaus' arm. "Can you take Rebekah to her room and stay with her?"

Klaus nods, gratefully accepting the escape Elijah offered. 

"I'll warn you before we arrive," Elijah promises as he closes the door behind them.

Half asleep, Klaus presses his nose in Rebekah's hair. She snuggles closer, and together, they drift off in a restless sleep.

\---

The door clicks softly into its lock, and Elijah walks back to the main cabin. Luckily, Sarah Lewiss has been wise enough to stay away. Elijah is not sure if he could stand her yammering, and it would not be appropriate if he punched her in the face. 

The train is exactly as he remembers it. Grandly decorated with diamonds, every part of it made of the finest materials. Mikael had scoffed at the extravagance, and Elijah had to admit he agreed. 

He crashes into the couch, dragging his hand over his face. He had steeled himself that morning, prepared himself as best as he could for the rush of memories and pain which the reaping dragged to the surface. 

But he could not have anticipated this.

Niklaus' and Rebekah's participation in the Games changed everything. They had calculated another full year into their plans. How was he supposed to keep them alive until then?

His fingers tremble as he pulls his tie free from his neck, the garment suddenly suffocating. 

His siblings need him to be strong. He would need to contact Freya. Speed up the plan. Cover the three weeks until the Games - gather allies, pick an escape route, find a hiding place.

There must be a way. A way to save them.

Outside, the scenery flashes past as they move closer and closer to their destination in a dazzling haze of green.

_I never thought I would miss District 1_ , Tatia had whispered, staring at the window after Mikael had retired. Elijah had glanced at her, unsure what to say.

Mikel had made his preference clear. He had trained Elijah, not her. 

It was supposed to be straightforward. 

Enter the Games. Survive. Return home.

That picture had shattered the moment Tatia took her place next to him on the podium.

The Petrova triplets were famous in Distritct 1. Born into a wealthy family, their hand in marriage was highly desired, and many suitors tried to draw their attention, even though they were still young.

Their families knew each other well, and Elijah had danced with them often. Niklaus even had a crush on them, judging by the blush that rose on his cheeks whenever they were near.

_I will fight,_ Tatia had said determinedly. _I have siblings I need to get back to._

Elijah shivers, trying to push the memories away. 

He had nodded, taking up her challenge. _So do I._

She smiles at him, her face framed by her braided hair. 

Softly, she traces his jaw. 

From the corner of her mouth trickles a drop of blood.

She collapses against him and her weight pushes the knife deeper in her chest. 

He can't pull it out _he can't st-_

Elijah digs his thumb deeply into the flesh of his lower right arm. 

Bright pain laces upwards, shocking him back to the present. He grits his teeth but doesn't relent, forcing his thumb further into the barely healed wounds hidden just below his pristine white shirt. 

He had been doing well, for the past month. With the reaping close, he had been requested less than usual, and he had not needed the pain to keep him grounded.

But three days ago, during one of the numerous parties, he had found himself face to face with an enlarged recording of his final moments in the game. Frozen to the spot, unable to drag his gaze away, he had watched how Tatia's face had gone slack.

How she had died in his arms.

The next thing he remembered is sitting beneath the hot stream of the shower, the knife carving deep into his arm until the stream ran red.

He is grateful for the wounds now. The pain pierces through the memories.

His siblings need him.

He has no time to fall apart.

\----

They are greeted by an audience when the train arrives at the Capitol, and Klaus and Rebekah smile and wave as they are escorted to the twelve store apartment building. To uphold the illusion of equality, all tributes would be housed in the same place, with District 1's apartment located on the ground floor while District 12 were situated into the penthouse.

Inside, there is a large open space of interconnected areas, including a dining area with a large table, a living room with three couches and a projector, and private training hall with a sparring ring. 

"Here you are!" Sarah Lewiss exclaims, trotting inside. "You're rooms are in the back. Now, please make yourselves at home. The other tributes will not arrive until tomorrow, so we have plenty of time to settle before the grand ceremony."

They hadn't been allowed to take any personal items, but new clothes have been laid out in their closet. After taking a shower, the three of them try to have a small dinner, but most of the food is left untouched, and they barely speak.

Once the dinner is over, Elijah turns to them.

"I will have to leave, for now. Try to get some more rest."

Klaus nods, even though his heart has jumped into his throat at the thought of Elijah being gone. Part of him had tried to pretend that they were just on a family outing, but without his brother, the enormous space feels cold and empty.

He tries to sleep, lying alone in the large bed, but the exhaustion is gone, and he is awake enough for doubts to start twisting in his mind.

What if he couldn't protect Rebekah? What if Mikael had been right all along? What if he was too weak? 

What if she had been better off without him?

After an hour of tossing, he slips outside. To his surprise, Rebekah is sitting on one of the three couches surrounding the projector, legs drawn close to her chest. The light of the screen casts eerie shadows on the walls as the highlights of the past day are presented in quick succession. The sound is muted, but Klaus can imagine the voice over narrating the events.

He slips in next to Rebekah just when he himself appears on the screen, stepping out of the row of boys. 

"You didn't have to," Rebekah whispers. There are tears on her cheeks. "You didn't have to, Nik."

Once all new tributes have been shown, the story flits back further in time. The kid from District Two winning the Games the year before. Elijah, two years earlier. A red haired girl, yelling in victory before him. Finn, completely in shock. They go further and further back, until finally they reach Mikael, grinning fiercely at the camera.

"I'm scared," Rebekah admits in a small voice. "Will you stay with me?"

Klaus slips his hand in hers.

"I will always stay with you, Rebekah," he promises.

Always and Forever.

\----

The party is already in full swing when Elijah arrives. It is a private meeting, normally reserved for those on the guest list, whose spot needed to be acquired months in advance. Of course, Elijah has no such restrictions.

He nods at the steward, who smiles and gestures for him to enter, taking his coat for safekeeping.

Jazz music fills the air, and high status nobleman and ladies have gathered at the tables or are spinning around on the dance floor, each of their costumes more grand than the other.

As soon as he enters, he is greeted by those standing nearby. He smiles, nodding at each of them as he makes his way towards the back of the room, excusing himself softly but surely as they try to drag him into their conversations. 

Seated on one of the elevated private chairs, surrounded by her entourage of wealthy youngsters, sits Josephine LaRue. Her eyes narrows as he approaches, but she gestures to the two guards to let him through. 

He bows and presses a kiss against her hand, lips curling up in a smile.

"Madame LaRue," he says. "Always a pleasure."

"Mister Mikaelson. I'm sure it is." 

Her voice is slightly raspy, a reminder of when a fellow tribute sliced her neck during the Games twenty eight years ago. 

"You look wonderful tonight."

Madame LaRue would have snorted, were she not above such things.

"I did not expect to see you, Mister Mikaelson."

"Indeed. I had not anticipated being in the Capitol this evening," Elijah concedes. "Still, there are some advantages."

He holds out his hand.

"May I have this dance?" 

Madame LaRue's smile can cut glass, but she takes up his offer, placing her hand into his.

He leads her to the dance floor, taking up position on the slower side of the room. Out here, with couples swirling past them and the music loud in their ears, they can speak more privately.

"For what it is worth," Madame La Rue says genuinely, "I am truly sorry for your loss."

Elijah swallows.

"I do not intend to lose them," he says, keeping his voice low. He twirls them around the other couples and the beat of the music, making sure not to get too close.

"And how do you wish to accomplish that?" 

Her voice is amused, and her gaze seems to pierce right through him.

"We have a plan," Elijah says. "But we need allies."

"I assume I am one of those you seek to sway?"

Elijah inclines his head. 

"Why, pray tell, would I endanger those under my protection?"

Madame LaRue had gathered wealthy youngsters with potential. Most of them were third or forth born children, eager to forge their own path in the politics of the Capitol, but without their family's backing.

"Protection? I would not call it protection."

She narrows her eyes.

"Is that so?"

"Protection against _what_? A life like those in the Districts? You might give them means to survive, yes, maybe even lead what they consider a good life."

He spins her around and gets back in her face again, slightly to fast for the rhythm of the music. 

"But that is all there is to it. Survival."

He can still feel traces of the terror he had felt when he stepped into her suite. She had been the first to request him, and had attempted to pull him into her fold. He would have been the first Victor in her fine collection of extraordinary people, aside, of course, from herself.

"They will remain slaves to the Capitol. It might be dressed up in make up and jewellery but we both recognize it for what it is."

The music swirls around them. Perfectly orchestrated and approved.

"How long will you keep dancing to their tune?"

He halts abruptly, and she bumps into him. He takes a step back and bows, smiling pleasantly.

"Thank you for the dance, Madame."

He strolls away without waiting for a reply. His heart is pounding in his chest, but he reveals nothing as he collects his coat. With it, he is handed a familiar paper, branded with the Mikaelson M.

_Finally._

It is time to meet his sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Uncharted Territory by Kensington


	6. The Road To Nowhere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've also posted a coda to the main story, which can be found [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27065503).
> 
> Enjoy!

After a small breakfast, Klaus and Rebekah spend their time preparing for the Grand Ceremony, which will be held on the evening of the next day.

They are washed, dressed and tailored by the stylist of their district, and Klaus is unable to think about anything beyond avoiding the pins which hold his costume together.

They don't see Elijah until they have returned to the apartment, where they collapse at the long table to finally get something to eat.

"At least our costume looks lovely," Rebekah remarks wistfully.

Klaus snorts. In any other circumstances, Rebekah would have loved all the pampering. The clothes are far more luxurious than Father would ever have allowed them to wear.

A special broadcast introducing all the tributes was scheduled after dinner, so they settle on the couch. Klaus has no desire to see the faces of those he is supposed to kill, but he would not be able to avoid them indefinitely.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," the now familiar voice calls out. "Here they are. The tributes of the fifty eighth Hunger Games. Now, let's start all the way at District Twelve!"

Two scrawny kids appear on the screen, a boy and a girl of about thirteen or fourteen years old. Not the youngest tributes who have ever entered the Games, but they would not pose a threat. 

The tributes of Districts 11, 10 and 8 appear much stronger, raised as they were on the countryside. They worked with heavy machinery and took care of the livestock or farm lands, but while their knowledge of animals might prove useful, they would have no fighting experience. Klaus and Rebekah would be able to outlast them.

The textile industry of District 9 also produced heavy workers, but already the unhealthy blue sheen covers the skin of the tributes, a side effect of the fumes which pervaded the factories in which they worked. 

The female tribute of District 7 is the first one Klaus takes note of. She glares into the camera, a stark contrast with the passive, soulless gazes of the other tributes. District 7 was known for its lumber and woodwork, and her experience in the woods could give her an advantage.

The expressions of the District 6's tributes seem dull in comparison, but the male tribute of District 5 smiles broadly and even adds a wink. Rebekah sits up slightly straighter when she sees him, and Klaus shakes his head.

The female tribute of District 4 has a deadly, haughty look, as does her companion. They make the girl and boy of District 3 hardly noteworthy. 

Finally, the image switches to the two tributes which Klaus had really been waiting for.

Tristan and Aurora de Martel, careers of District 2.

Like him and Rebekah, Tristan and Aurora are siblings, and had volunteered together. District 2 was known for their weaponry and security forces, and it was a sore point that District 1 still held the record for most won Games, not in the least because of the Mikaelsons.

The image of Tristan and Aurora disappear, and their own faces appear on the screen. Klaus had tried to be as intimidating as possible, but honestly, he looked more like a deer in headlights. At least Rebekah appeared decent.

Elijah switches of the projector.

"Rebekah, who would you say poses the biggest threat?" 

"Tristan and Aurora De Martel," Rebekah answers immediately. "And..."

She hesitates, eyebrows wrinkling as she thinks. "The girl and boy from four."

Elijah nods. 

"Anyone else? Niklaus?"

"The girl from seven," Klaus adds. 

"Agreed. She seemed to have spirit. Furthermore, she is impartial. Talk to her when you meet her in the training facility. She might make a good ally."

Rebekah and Klaus go through some physical exercises next, if only to keep fit and pass the time. Elijah has left again, excusing himself with a small smile.

Later that evening, the tailors return with their costumes, starting another round of measuring and fitting.

When they are finally done, Klaus falls into bed next to Rebekah, completely exhausted. Still, he tosses and turns a while before sleep finally claims him.

\---

They start the next day with another training routine, losing themselves in the familiar movements, trying hard not to think about that evening. Lunch comes around, and Klaus can barely eat. 

When they are finally collected, Klaus jumps up eagerly. He had been playing with a knife, yearning for a piece of wood to occupy his hands. He is nervous, but the ceremony is a welcome distraction.

A fancy car drives them to the center of the Capitol, where they are ushered into one of the rooms adjacent to the main hall. Each pair of tributes would be transported by horse drawn chariots, taking them across the Victory Road to the seat of the High Council, where the president would give his salute. The Victory Road itself would be lined with high standing Capitol citizens, each of whom had reserved their place far in advance, and for an enormous amount of money.

Klaus and Rebekah stand quietly in the side room until their costumes are brought in, neither of them feeling up for a conversation.

When they are dressed, they appear like the kings and queens of old, stately and fierce, a true combination of power and wealth. The materials are of the finest quality, and fit perfectly when Klaus puts them on.

Rebekah looks stunning in her regal dress. The sleeves are puffed, and the skirt swirls gracefully when she moves. On her forehead, secured inside a delicate crown, shines a green diamond. 

Klaus wears an iron breastplate with a detailed pattern and a blunt sword at his hip. The tailor places a crown on his head as well. It is heavy, and he has to move his head carefully lets it falls off.

They are brought to their chariot, where they have to wait with the other tributes until the ceremony starts. 

Absent-mindedly, Klaus runs his hand over the horse's flank, eyeing the other tributes. They have all been dressed in costumes of their respective Districts, one more splendid and creative than the other. 

The girl of District 7 catches him looking, and scowls. A wolf's skin has been draped over her shoulders and head, the jaw framing her face. Her fingers clench on the blunt spear she is forced to carry.

Maybe she is willing to trade her stick with his useless sword.

"Niklaus, Rebekah."

Klaus sighs in relief when Elijah approaches them.

"Where were you?" Rebekah says with a slight pout.

"I had some important matters to discuss."

Elijah takes her in. 

"You look beautiful."

Rebekah blushes under her make up and gives a small curtsy. 

"Thank you, My Lord," she teases.

Elijah smiles affectionately. 

"You know what to do?"

"Stand there and look pretty right?" Klaus quips.

"Well, if that's all there is to it... you might actually stand a chance."

Klaus freezes, instinctively reaching out to Rebekah. Elijah has taken a small step forward, placing himself between Klaus and the newcomers.

"Oh dear, did I startle you? I think I might have, Sister." 

Tristan De Martel places his free hand on his chest. His other arm is occupied by Aurora De Martel.

"Don't be mean, Brother. You are right, they do look very pretty." 

Aurora chirps happily and steps up into Klaus' face. 

"Especially you, Nik - can I call you Nik? It is an honour to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you - and your family."

"Indeed," Tristan says. He turns towards Elijah, who raises an eyebrow, lips curling up in an indulgent smile. 

"It is a shame we did not meet in the arena. I would have loved to test my strength against yours. You did so skillfully destroy your opponents, especially that Petrova girl." 

Elijah's barely perceptible flinch sends a flare of anger through Klaus.

"Oh don't worry, Tristan," he drawls, stepping forward. "If you so desperately wish to die, I would be happy to oblige."

Tristan chuckles, and Klaus narrows his eyes.

"Come Sister. Let's leave the riff raft to their preparations."

Aurora gives a little wave and a cheerful smile as they stroll away.

Elijah sighs deeply and briefly places a hand on his brow. Only now Klaus realizes how exhausted he looks.

"Brother?" he whispers, concerned.

"I'm fine. The ceremony is about to start."

Rebekah slips her hand into Klaus' as they mount the carriage and Klaus squeezes back. 

Then everything is swept away by the roar of the audience and the blinding lights as the horses draw them ever closer to their doom.

\---

In the darkness of a small apartment, the lights of the projector illuminates a scarred face.

Freya Mikaelson watches the ceremony with detached interest. 

The last time she had seen Klaus and Rebekah was almost four years ago. They had been children, only Klaus old enough to participate in the reaping.

The camera pans over the parade of tributes as they approach the enormous overhang where the president will give his salute. It swirls upwards to capture the citizens of the Capitol who were given the most prominent positions, and zooms in on the small entourage of the members of the High Council, all sipping their sweetened drinks and nibbling from their salted appetizers. 

The carriages come to a halt and the president takes his place in front of the microphone.

But it isn't him who Freya is interested in. Behind the president, hidden in the shadows is a much more formidable foe.

While the president held the official power in Panem, the real power was in the hands of the one who controlled the military. If it would ever come to a fight, it would be her who stood in the way of peaceful change.

The camera doesn't show her face. But Freya knows it by heart. 

If they were ever to succeed, they would need to deal with the head of Security.

Dahlia Eriksdottir.


	7. Family, Friend or Foe

Hayley Marshall shivers as she and Jackson enter the training facilities below the apartment building. Most of the other tributes have already gathered, and are waiting quietly for instructions. 

Here, wearing simple training clothes, they all look normal. Not that much different from the pack of kids she used to run with in District 7. Just an anxious bunch, desperate to survive.

The Careers, of course, form an exception. Tristan and Aurora De Martel are chatting with the female tribute of District 4, Aya Al-Rashid, their predatory eyes sweeping across the room, already trying to determine the easiest prey. Klaus and Rebekah Mikaelson are hovering to the side, distrust and pride evident in their stances. 

Hayley squares her shoulders and stalks further inside, Jackson trailing behind her. She refuses to be intimidated.

Once they have all arrived, the head trainer addressed them. 

"Welcome tributes. I am your overseer. Starting from today, you will have a fortnight to train and hone your skills. There will be three mandatory exercises and a final assessment, the first of which will be held today. Otherwise, you are free to do as you wish."

Her stern gaze lands on the Careers.

"Any unauthorized fight between tributes, including verbal provocations, are prohibited. Sparring sessions are allowed, but without bodily harm and completely voluntarily. If any crippling injury occur during a sparring session, you will be penalized. Do you understand?"

They all nod, one more fearful than the other.

"The first mandatory task will be this afternoon at three, and will involve hand-to-hand combat. Dismissed."

The tension disperses as the tributes begin to whisper amongst themselves, glancing around at the training facility.

"What shall we do first?" Jackson asks from Hayley's side.

She shrugs. It will be almost impossible to master new skills in the next two weeks. She should be more concerned with finding allies, and the training session would give a glimpse of everyone's capabilities. In a way, it was no different than she was used to. Before any new member had been allowed to join their little group of scavengers, they had to prove themselves. 

She glances at the other tributes.

Tristan and Aya have taken up position in the main sparring ring and are doing warming up exercises while Aurora is watching from the side, the sandy haired boy from District 6 standing next to her. The Mikaelson siblings have sauntered over to another weapon rack. The girl, Rebekah, has taken up two knives and skillfully flips them back and forth in her hands.

The rest of the tributes have spread over the various exercise stations, which range from an archery range to an imitation of the forest floor.

Hayley goes past them one by one, and the day progresses slowly. Thus far, the other tributes have stayed away from her, moving on from the station as she approaches. She had kept an eye on their skills, but had hardly been impressed. Then again, she had not showed her own yet.

She bites her lip, considering, and walks over to the forest floor. Showing the other tributes she could make fire might give her an advantage without revealing too much of her skills. She was from the lumber district. It was expected.

Jackson squats next to her as she gathers some small twigs, and she suppresses the urge to roll her eyes and push him away. Ever since the reaping, he had glued himself to her side, asking questions, pretending they were a team. He was the oldest son of one of the more wealthy family's of District 7, and Hayley had only heard of his family before. 

He was nice and kind. The streets would have destroyed him, and Arena will do the same.

Laughter rings through the hall, and Hayley glances at the ring. The boy of District 6 is on the ground, Tristan standing over him. The boy laughs along, but he is a mouse and they are the cats, playing with their food before they make the final kill.

"Quite mean aren't they? I suppose he'll be the first of them to die."

Hayley's gaze snaps towards Rebekah Mikaelson, who is standing right next to her. The female tribute of District 1 is almost a year younger than Hayley, but would no doubt be victorious if they clashed in a a one-on-one fight. Rebekah's posture is casual, one hand on her hip, and Hayley allows herself to relax slightly. They weren't in the Arena. Yet.

"I assume that is why you turned them down?"

Hayley frowns, trying to keep up with the conversation. 

"Aren't the allegiances solidified only on the final day?" she deflects, the high pitch in her voice betraying her nervousness. "It's barely day two."

Rebekah shrugs. "Solidified, yes. But one can't be too early. There must also still be time to break them after all."

Her grin is full of teeth before she frowns and taps her foot on the floor.

"Or did they not yet approach you?"

Hayley bites her lip and Rebekah narrows her eyes knowingly.

"They haven't yet. Curious." 

Her gaze flickers to Jackson, who has remained silent during the exchange, halting on him just a moment too long, before she flashes an innocent smile.

"Well, love, you know where to find me if you ever wish to talk."

Rebekah stalks away with an arrogant flick of her head. Hayley swallows and turns back to her little fire. Her palms are clammy, and she barely hears Jackson's remark. 

"They are all crazy," Jackson mutters.

He might be right. But they were also powerful. She glances at the Mikaelson girl who saunters past each practice station without a care in the world. Why would she be afraid? She had been trained for this day since her birth. 

How would Hayley ever stand a chance?

The day progresses, and Hayley takes Rebekah's advice by heart, approaching the tributes instead of waiting for them to approach her. She chats a bit with the tributes of Districts 9 and 10. If she could align her skills in the woods with their strength, they might stand a chance against the careers, but from their passive response it is clear that they have already given up.

When she arrives at the archery station, the girl from District 8 is trying out a bow under careful instructions of the master. 

Hayley joins her, Jackson following suit. When they walk to the bull's-eye - two of her arrows have struck the white space next to it and the other had flown over the target - she smiles at the girl.

"Good shooting," she says.

The girl frowns, startled. 

"Was it?" she whispers. Her eyes are downcast and her expression sullen.

Hayley tries to keep up the conversation, but the girl gets more and more jittery, and missed all her next shots. Finally, with an anxious glare, and a quick "I'm going to try something else", she flees. Hayley shakes her head. She would not be able to count on the girl as an ally.

When the head trainer calls them all together for the first mandatory exercise, she is almost relieved. 

The first exercise involves simple hand-to-hand combat, and they are divided at random into two lines, each on one side of the sparring ring. The first of each line will fight, until the overseer calls the fight to a halt.

Hayley is positioned t the fifth place, and paired with the male tribute of District 10. He was strong, but she could manage. 

The first two fighters are the scrawny kid from District 12 and Aya Al-Rashid. The kid doesn't stand a chance, and Aya seems annoyed that she isn't able to show of her skills. In contrast, the next fight is called to a stop after the combatants haven't made a single strike. Rebekah Mikaelson easily overpowers the male tribute of District 9.

Jackson is up next. He grimaces at her, and Hayley smiles encouragingly.

They are allowed to choose their own weapon, and Hayley considers her options. She could pick an axe. It was a bit unwieldy, but would give her more range than a knife.

She glances at the other row. What would he- 

She flinches.

Instead of the male tribute of District 9, the next in line is Klaus Mikaelson. 

When did they switch?

Her heart is hammering, and she almost cries out, but Jackson's fight is already over, and the head trainer beckons her forwards.

Her hands tremble when she blindly picks up a weapon. 

"Don't worry, love," Klaus whispers mockingly at the weapon rack. "The real fight only starts in the arena."

Hayley has no time to respond, and the head trainer starts counting down. 

At zero, Klaus immediately darts forward. Hayley's arm flares in pain as he strikes her, and she swings back blindly, but he is already out of her reach. 

She takes a deep breath, forces down the pain. Klaus is watching her. Waiting for her. Not bothered or winded at all. 

Anger stirs in her gut at his arrogant expression. 

She takes another swing at him, but he easily dodges. She continues, a growl in her throat, but he sidesteps again, not even bothering to fight back.

He is playing with her. He knows she doesn't stand chance. But she hasn't come so far, hasn't survived the streets of District 7 since she was a child to back down now.

On impulse, she throws the weapon at his head.

He flinches to the side and Hayley launches herself after her weapon, barrels into him and drags him to the floor. She throws a punch at his cheek and feels her knuckles connect. Before she can land the next one, he buckles, throwing her on her back with force. 

His angry face hovers over her, and instinctively, she curls into herself.

"Stop!"

The strike never comes, and tentatively, Hayley straightens. The head trainer has stepped in front of Klaus, who glares at her, a bruise forming on his face.

If they had been in the arena, she would have been dead. In the arena, he wouldn't have been stopped.

Still, she can't help but smile smugly. It did feel good to put him in his place.

Jackson grins at her when she steps out of the ring. They watch the rest of the fights, but Hayley can feel a change in how they look at her. 

It is only later, when she sees Rebekah watching her with narrowed eyes, that she realizes her mistake. She might have just made enemies out of the two strongest tributes.

\---

"And then, she punched him."

Klaus scowls. His cheek is aching.

"You underestimated her," Elijah says.

"Fine. Yes, I did," Klaus growls under his breath, shoving down his stew. For once, he is glad that contact with their family is prohibited. He can already imagine his father's response.

"And the others? Any potential allies?"

"Maybe the male tribute from District 5. His name is Alexander."

"He seems a bit daft."

Rebekah hits him on his arm. "No he doesn't!"

Klaus sighs. "Tristan, Aurora, Aya and Mohinder have joined forces, as expected."

Elijah nods thoughtfully. 

"What about the male tribute of District 7? Jackson Kenner? Is she loyal to him?"

"I don't think so," Rebekah answers. 

"Talk to her tomorrow. Find out what you can."

Elijah stands.

"Where are you off to?"

"I have been invited for an interview later this evening."

Klaus winches.

"Are you going to be alright?" he asks imploringly. His eyes flicker to Elijah's wrist. 

Elijah straightens his sleeves. 

"I'll be fine. I imagine I will be back before you go to bed."

Klaus and Rebekah settle back on the couch. Elijah's interview will be broadcasted live, and they might as well tune in.

Before it starts, the first official rankings are presented. Tristan and Aurora are in the lead, followed closely by Aya and Mohinder. Next are Klaus and Rebekah themselves, Rebekah a few points ahead of her brother.

Hayley Marshall is number 7, just below Klaus, and he feels a strange stab of pride. Good for her. 

"And now, we have a very special guest for you tonight," Andie Star, an upcoming journalist, exclaims. "Our very own District 1 victor, Elijah Mikaelson!"

Elijah presses a kiss on her hand before sitting down in the chair next to her, lips curled up in an amused smile. The audience cheers, and Andie chuckles nervously.

"So Elijah, thank you for being here."

"Thank you for having me, Miss Star. It is always a pleasure."

"Not to be too forward... but I think we are all wondering how you are. "

Elijah inclines his head, but doesn't respond, eyeing her expectantly.

"Once again, there are two Mikaelson's participating in the Games. It must remind you of your siblings Freya and Finn, who entered almost four years ago."

"It is basically the same situation, yes."

"How did you feel when Klaus so bravely volunteered?"

"I have no doubt that he will do his utmost best to protect his sister."

"And the rest of your family, how did they respond?"

"As you well know, tributes are not allowed to contact their family. Of course, as their mentor and brother, this puts me in an awkward position. But we are sure that a Mikaelson will be victorious this year, one way or the other."

Andie Star smiles. "Thank you so much, Elijah. Now, I know you are preoccupied with this year's Hunger Games, but I do wish to ask you one little question, if I may."

Elijah nods and gives a pleasant smile, but Klaus notices that he is tapping with his finger on the arm rest.

"Two years ago, you stood where your siblings stand now, together with Tatia Petrova."

An image of Tatia appears on the screen next to him and is briefly enlarged for the audience at home. She stares straight into the camera, fierce and proud.

"She was stunning."

"Yes, she was."

"Elijah." Andie leans forward. "If she were here, if she were watching from the afterlife and could hear you... what would you say to her?"

Elijah freezes, startled, caught off guard for the first time. His hand clenches into a fist. Klaus glowers at Andie, as if he could reach her through the projector screen.

Elijah swallows.

"She did not deserve to die," he says, voice rough, looking away from Andie and the camera. It zooms in anyway, greedily capturing his pain.

"Her family did not deserve to lose her."

He flashes a smile, then stares directly into the camera, expression grave, almost a glare.

"Her sacrifice will not be forgotten."

\---

The door to the apartment opens quietly, and Klaus jerks up. Elijah flicks on the light, and shakes his head when he notices Klaus.

"You should rest," he chides without real conviction before he collapses next to Klaus on the couch.

"You would be back earlier."

"I got held up."

Elijah closes his eyes and rests his head backwards, but a frown remains on this brow. His right hand is clenching and unclenching rapidly. 

Klaus leans forward and slips his hand into Elijah's. Elijah flinches briefly, gaze jerking towards him, but he slumps down again with a sigh and curls up slightly.

Klaus runs his fingers over Elijah's knuckles, massages the back and palm of his hand. Ever since he had caught Elijah with a knife on the bathroom floor, he had tried to divert his brother's attention whenever he could, giving him an alternative to the pain. Elijah could not tolerate more than a simple touch when he returned after being requested, but Klaus had found that holding his right hand was enough to get him through the night.

"Join us," Klaus suggests. "The bed is big enough. And Rebekah would like it too."

Elijah nods, completely exhausted, and they quickly prepare for bed. Klaus sneaks in next to Rebekah first, and slips his hand back into Elijah's when he crawls in after him, holding on to his brother as tightly as Elijah is to him.

If he closes his eyes and blocks out the unfamiliar room, he can almost pretend they are back at home, and tomorrow will be just like any other day.


	8. Made and Broken

The elevator slowly takes Elijah up towards the eleventh floor of the Grand Capitol hotel.

As the most prominent and famous hotel of the Capitol, it was frequented only by the most prestigious citizens of society. The first three floors alone housed three casinos, three swimming pools and numerous restaurants and bars. The other floors were dedicated to private suites, where guests were given full privacy over their conducts. 

Elijah had been up these suites many times, attending to the needs of senators, businessmen, fashion artists, and all others with the means and status to request him.

After he had finished the Victory Tour, Esther had explained what was required of him. Elijah had had no choice but to obey. While their family was famous, their privileges could easily be revoked, and if he strayed out of line, his siblings would feel the consequences in the Games. 

The first woman he had bedded was named Lucia. She taught him how to smile and laugh as if he meant it. She taught him how to kiss, give pleasure, and make his clients feel satisfied. 

She had also taught him how to numb his mind against the disgust and terror. She taught him not to eat anything, so he would have less to throw up. He had soaked it all in, grateful for the guidance. The only advice he had refused to heed was the use of alcohol and other substances. The Capitol had claimed his body. He would not allow them to steal his mind.

One night, almost three months after finishing the Victory Tour, he had dragged himself towards the same suite he is approaching now. His clients had been holding back, but they were steadily becoming bolder, raking their hands across his back, placing them innocently on his knee but moving higher up his thigh as the evening progressed. His eighteenth birthday had been fast approaching, and he dreaded the moment he was required to do more.

The door had been opened by a blond haired Anox, a servant who's tongue had been cut out in punishment of some long forgotten crime. The room had been dark, lit only by a few fake candles, and his client had been staring out of the window, silhouetted against the artificial light.

"Thank you, Mattias," she had said, and the Anox had bowed and left.

Elijah had frowned. Anox were not usually addressed by name, not even by those who deemed themselves progressive.

After the Anox had left, the woman had turned around, and he hadn't been able to suppress a flinch. The left side of her face was disfigured, with scar tissue running over her cheek, pulling the corner of her mouth into a permanent scowl. Her left eye and eyebrow were completely gone.

The right side of the woman's mouth had curled upward. 

"Hello Elijah," she had said, tears shimmering in her one eye. And for the first time in two years, Elijah had been greeted by his sister.

The doors of the elevator open with a gentle ping, and Elijah walks over to number 1148. For the sake of privacy, each suite has a backdoor entrance, making them perfect for any meeting not meant for the public eye. 

Freya and Gia, a violinist who is part of the entourage of Madame LaRue, are seated at the table. Elijah hugs his sister and kisses her cheek before turning to Gia. She had been one of the first to volunteer after Josephine had agreed to Elijah's proposal.

"It's a pleasure to see you again," he smiles, holding out his hand.

Gia takes it with a smirk, as always unbothered by his reputation.

"Likewise. So, when can we go kick some Capitol ass?"

"Patience," Freya smiles. "Please, show us what you got."

Gia places a suitcase on the table. "Right. I went to the outer ring, like you asked, and he was there."

She clicks the suitcase open and lifts the lid. Inside, there are two vials filled with a red liquid.

"I wasn't able to get much. Kind of a suspicious man. But it should be enough, I think."

Elijah nods, gaze drawn towards the small, breakable vials. They are the key for their plans, and the only way to rescue Niklaus and Rebekah. 

"Thank you," he says sincerely. While Gia is less famous than he is, she could have been recognized, and could easily end up like Mattias.

Still, he can't help but feel a little jealous. He would have gladly gone in her place.

"What was he like?" he asks, the words slipping from his mouth.

Gia shrugs. "Paranoid. A little crazy. But nice, I guess."

She narrows her eyes. "You still haven't told me why we need his blood."

"Later," Freya says. "The less you know the better."

"Fine. Well, if you need someone to trudge through the underbelly of our wonderful Capitol, just call."

She turns to leave, and Elijah walks her to the door.

"Are you playing tonight?"

Gia nods. Her musical education had been paid for by Madame LaRue, and she was gaining popularity with the members of high society.

"Small, exclusive jazz club. Lucky me."

Her voice has a sarcastic lilt, but Elijah knows she likes to play. They had practised a few times together, and she genuinely enjoyed the music.

"Have fun."

She flashes a smile and leaves. 

When he looks back at Freya, she is smirking.

"What?"

"She's a nice girl."

Elijah rolls his eyes.

"And our brother and sister could be dead in two weeks. We have more important matters to worry about."

"Love is important, Elijah."

Her gaze flickers to Mattias, who has taken up his quiet vigilance next to the door. Elijah did not know the full story, but he knew that Mattias had been captured by Dahlia Eriksdottir.

Elijah sighs and focuses his attention back on the two vials. Now that they were secure, it meant it was time to approach the next person required for their plans. One he was not looking forward to meeting.

Freya places her hand on his arm and squeezes. 

"You'll be fine," she whispers.

Elijah nods. He would have to be. He could not fail his siblings now.

\---

"Do you need some treatment for that bruise?" 

Tristan de Martel smiles sincerely when Klaus enters the facility, but Klaus ignores him, and stalks towards Rebekah. She is scrutinizing the oldest De Martel sibling, absent-mindedly twirling two practice blades in her hands.

"I say we kill him first," Rebekah says haughtily when he reaches her.

Klaus' gaze snaps towards her.

"Don't talk like that."

Rebekah frowns. "But you and Elij-"

Klaus grabs her arm and drags her to the side.

"You, Sister, are meant to get out of this mess unscathed. Which means you let us handle the specifics, alright?"

Rebekah pulls herself free, eyes blazing.

"I can take care of myself." 

"No. You're not ready."

"Neither are you!"

Klaus flinches and Rebekah uses the opportunity to push past him.

"See you later, Nik. I am going to actually make some allies."

\--

Hayley sighs. The second day is much like the first one. She moves from practice station to practice station, Jackson trailing close behind. 

She had lain awake all night, thoughts spinning. While she had probably blown her chances at joining the Mikaelsons, allying herself to the De Martel's might still be an option. But it would only serve her in the first part of the game. Once they had killed the other tributes, she would be their next target.

A third option was to hide, and pray that they all killed each other before they got to her. But previous Games had made it clear that lonely tributes made easy targets for the Game Makers. Of course, the Games could not be *boring*.

She considers approaching the De Martel siblings, but Aya narrows her eyes as she comes near, and she finds herself swerving towards the station filled with electronics. 

She shrug, pushing away her annoyance at her own cowardice. It would do no harm to familiarize herself with wires and batteries. While most Arenas featured hostile landscapes, modern gadgets could mean the difference between life and death. In one of the previous games, which had been set in a harsh dessert, a sponsor had provided the winning tribute with a device that gathered water from the air. It had given her the strength she had needed.

Hayley sits down at the station, Jackson next to her, following her without asking for an explanation. Carefully, she starts to connect small wires to electrodes in an effort to get a light bulb to shine. After a few attempts, a small light flickers inside, and she smiles, secretly pleased to see she got it working earlier than Jackson.

Jackson shakes his head.

"I'm going to the bathroom," he says, and she nods. As he walks away, her gaze catches on Tristan De Martel. The District 2 Career glances at her, and Hayley tenses as he approaches her, dropping the light.

"You must be Hayley Marshall," Tristan De Martel says smoothly, holding out his hand.

Hayley crosses her arms. 

"As if you haven't analysed all of my weaknesses already," she says with a smile. 

Tristan chuckles. Even in the trainings gear, he holds himself with arrogance. 

"Well, you did draw my attention when you punched Klaus Mikaelson yesterday. Very clever move, throwing your weapon at his face. Did they teach you that in District 7?"

Hayley scowls. 

"Regardless," Tristan continues, "I am happy to catch you without your ever present sidekick."

He takes another step forward.

"You must have realized why I am here."

Hayley smiles sweetly.

"You want me to join your little gang."

"Call it whatever you wish. I saw you talking with Rebekah Mikaelson earlier. Know that whatever she offered you, I can offer more."

Hayley grits her teeth, anger stirring inside her. They were using her, both Rebekah and Tristan. They were gathering their little army, the pawns they could disregard when it suited them.

Tristan narrows his eyes.

"Of course," he says softly, "given your cunning and proactivity, I'd have to consider you a dangerous threat if not aligned with me."

Hayley squares her shoulders, but forces down the urge to punch him. In a way, he was giving her a compliment. And if he considered her a threat, it gave her leverage.

Confidence increasing, she considers her next move, but before she can say anything, Jackson interrupts her.

"Everything alright over here?"

He pushes himself between her and Tristan, who raises an eyebrow and looks pointedly at Hayley. 

"It's fine," she tells Jackson. "We were just having a conversation."

"Good. Because if he is bothering you..."

"You heard the lady. But I was just leaving anyway. Miss Marshall. Mister Kenner."

When Tristan is out of earshot, Hayley turns to Jackson.

"You idiot," she hisses angrily. "We were discussing an alliance."

Jackson shakes his head.

"An alliance with you."

A cold chill runs down Hayley's spine. Jackson's jaw is clenched, his expression pensive.

"I'm not an idiot, Hayley. I know I wasn't included in that bargain."

"Jack..." Hayley whispers, but Jackson has turned away from her.

"See you at dinner," he says, before leaving her completely alone.


	9. Closer to the Edge

The week passes quickly, and Klaus' frustration grows as the first day of the Games draws near. 

They see Elijah at dinner, and he talks them through various scenarios, mostly to keep them occupied, but when Klaus asks about his whereabouts, he remains elusive, unable to give any details about the sponsors he is supposedly gathering.

It confirms Klaus' suspicions. The sponsors have chosen a side, and it is not theirs, no matter Elijah's status. 

The second and third exercises come and go, and Klaus easily beats his opponent, giving them no chance to respond. It is brutal, and effective, and even Tristan is looking a little pale as he steps away from the ring. 

That evening, Klaus and Rebekah are in the lead on the ranking board, but Klaus can not enjoy it. With only a few days to go, and no allies to speak of, they would have a hard time when finally dropped in the Arena.

No matter. Klaus' only job is to keep Rebekah alive. Everything else is inconsequential. Even his own death. But when Elijah slips outside again later that night, he has to force down the growing disappointment and desperation. He doubts he will find any sleep that night.

\---

Hayley turns on her bed with a grunt. Her muscles ache after the third exercise, and she is immensely grateful for the few of days of respite until the final scoring day and the start of the Games. 

In the distance, a door opens and closes. It is Jackson, she knows. He sneaked out to the balcony every night around the same hour. Most times, Hayley would still be awake when he returned to his room, her own thoughts keeping her awake.

It had been almost a week, but the words of Rebekah and Tristan still swirl in her mind. Endlessly, she tries to weigh the cons and pros of joining both factions, but no matter what scenario she considered, she ended up dead. 

With a sigh, she rolls out of bed. Like she expected, Jackson is sitting outside, legs pulled up and staring out across the roof tops. Hayley hovers in the door opening, taking in the breathtaking sight. The first time she had seen it, the night after they had arrived, she had thought it beautiful, so different from her own district. Now, she wishes nothing more than to sit next to the churning wood ovens with her old friends.

"What do you want, Hayley?" Jackson asks tiredly as she sinks down next to him. 

"I'm not going to join the Careers."

The words blurt out of her mouth, and Hayley swallows, heart hammering in her throat. Jackson frowns, startled.

"Why wouldn't you? Hayley, it could give you a chance at winning this thing."

Hayley shakes her head.

"They don't need me. So I'd be the first they'd sacrifice."

Jackson's eyes glim in the darkness, partly hidden behind his long bangs. The city lights outline his face. Many girls had been swooning over him, back at home, and not solely for his family's status. He was kind, nice and understanding. Worth saving, if she could.

"We might outrun them if we hide. Together."

Jackson stands abruptly.

"I'm not a charity case."

"I'm not saying you are. If those Career losers can fight for each other, than so can we."

She lacing her fingers in front of her. She had been so focused on her own survival, judging her choices based on that singular outcome. But the truth was, there was no scenario in which she made it out of that Arena alive. She had a target on her back since the moment she threw her weapon at Klaus Mikaelson. But Jackson didn't. Maybe, she could keep him alive long enough to give him a shot at winning. 

"I know I have been horrible lately," Hayley continues. "But that could work in our favour. They'd never suspect us working together."

Jackson runs his hand through his hair. 

"We find each other in the Arena. At one point, the Careers will come looking, but they'll only expect me. Not you."

"And then what? We kill them? Until we are the only two left standing?"

Hayley swallows. In the best case, she would be able to take down the Careers with her, giving Jackson the opportunity to escape.

"I'm not expecting to survive," she whispers.

Jackson laughs.

"Welcome to the club."

To her surprise, he is smiling down at her. He holds out his hand.

"Alright then, Hayley Marshall. 'Till death do us part."

\---

A servant opens the door to the Petrova mansion, and Elijah is lead to a small waiting room. It is decorated according to the latest fashion, full of abstract forms and bright colours vying for attention, almost blinding after the relative darkness outside. Elijah sinks into a pointy, uncomfortable chair and gratefully accepts some tea, curling his hands around the warm glass to keep them from shaking. He has never been in the mansion before. It was bought after he returned from the games. 

He has just finished his tea when the door opens, and a woman strolls inside. Her hair is braided into an elaborate hairdo, and her face is obscured by make up, but Elijah's heart still jumps in his throat at her resemblance to Tatia.

"Elijah Mikaelson. What a pleasure."

Katerina Patrova extends a lazy hand, and Elijah kisses it, if only to hide his reaction. 

"Katerina."

Katerina frowns.

"I go by Katherine now. Please remember that."

She turns and saunters towards the hall.

"What do you want? It has been a long day and I'm tired." 

Elijah follows her, hands in his pockets, trying not to stare.

"I have not congratulated you for your new position," he says, allowing the bitterness to seep into his tone.

Katherine smiles coyly over her shoulder.

"The youngest Game Maker in history," she croons. "It does have a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"You would design the very construct that killed your sister?"

Katherine narrows her eyes.

" _You_ killed my sister. And some of us do not have the protection of family."

Elijah clenches his jaw. Tatia's death had made Katherine the oldest of the Petrova siblings. Her parents had expected her to marry immediately to secure the Patrova line, but Katherine had worked her way into the Capitol instead, bouncing off various suitors until she landed on an apprentice Game Maker. She had been promoted over his back, and had ditched him immediately after. It had given her the reputation of a liar and a manipulator. And thus perfectly suited for the job.

Elijah could understand the desire to escape her fate. He just hated the profession she had chosen. Even though her position was now crucial to their plans. 

"I need your help."

He taps his ear discreetly. Katherine glances at it, interest piqued. At least he could count on her curiosity.

"I have nothing to offer you." She gestures towards a statue near a white wall.

"Please, Katherine."

"Maybe one of your playthings is more willing."

It is a deliberate distraction for anyone who might be listening, but it stings all the same. Elijah clenches his right hand, the tension in his wrist pulling on the partially healed wounds, letting the pain ground him. 

Katherine presses behind the statue, and a hidden door slides open. The Mikaelson mansion had similar rooms, hidden behind fake walls. They slip inside, and Katherine raises her perfectly manicured eyebrows. When Elijah explains the plan, her expression becomes grim.

"That's ridiculous," she hisses.

"But possible." Elijah keeps his tone calm and certain. "You are our only option."

Katherine scowls, but insecurity flashes over her face. Despite her appearance, she is only a few months older than he.

"I could turn you in right now," she says. "It would mean the end of your family."

"I know you won't."

Katherine laughs disbelievingly.

"You trust me?" she mocks.

"Tatia did."

"Don't you dare mention her," Katherine snarls, but Elijah presses on.

"She told me about you. And Elena."

They had lain in the darkness of the forest, close together, telling each other stories about their families. Promising each other that at least one of them would make their way back.

"And yet you killed her."

Elijah takes a shuddering breath. 

"She got poisoned. She would have died either way, Katherine."

Katherine shakes her head, disgusted, but there are tears shimmering in her eyes and she is biting her lip, fists clenched at her side. 

"I am sorry." 

"You're only doing this for them. Klaus and Rebekah."

Elijah nods, unable to deny that fact. 

"For now. But once they are safe, we will bring it all down."

Katherine stares at him doubtfully.

"You have to do it, Kat."

Elena is standing in the doorway. Unlike Katherine, she is dressed plainly, and for a moment, Elijah can't breathe. It is far too easy to imagine his hands covered in her blood.

"We have to help."

Elena steps inside. She is more timid than her two counterparts, but her calm exterior hides a similar fierceness.

Katherine scoffs. "And if I get caught? Don't forget I pay the bills. What would become of you then?"

"You don't have to look after me."

"So noble, my little Elena. So ready to force others do the right thing."

She starts pacing. The long nails puncture her skin. Then, she smiles, hard and cold.

"Well, why not? I had promised this would be a year to remember."

\---

Hayley spends the last days preparing for the final scoring day. The tension between the tributes grows, until the training halls are filled only with silence and angry glares.

It is almost a relief when the overseer calls them together to address them for the final time.

"Tributes, tomorrow you will be given the opportunity to show your individual skills to the Game Makers. How well you perform influences the final ranking, and thus your chance of survival."

Her stern gaze sweeps over all of them, and even the Careers look grim.

"Your job is to convince us that you are worthy of victory. We expect you to show strength, ingenuity and fearlessness. If you are weak, you will fail."

Hayley swallows. Her hands hang clammy at her side.

"I wish you all the best of luck. But before you leave, we have a special guest."

She steps aside, and a woman emerges from the darkness behind her. Instinctively, Hayley tenses. Even though she is dressed plainly, in browns and greys, the woman emits power. Her clothes resemble a military outfit more than the elaborate styles of the Capitol.

"Hello children." 

The low and melodious voice fills the hallway with ease, and Hayley shivers, pressing closer to Jackson despite herself. 

"As you might have guessed, my name is Dahlia Erickson. It is my task to maintain peace and order within our wonderful country."

She smiles, and Hayley's muscles tense. She wants to flee, but Dahlia's piercing gaze, keeps her rooted to the spot.

"I understand that these are trying times for you. But we all made a promise. Never again would so many lives be lost as during the Dark Times. And you, my dear, _dear_ children, are here to contribute to that goal."

She spreads her arms.

"I thank you all for your sacrifice. While there is only one victor, you can all bring honour and glory to your district if you face this challenge with courage and strength."

The tributes glance at each other, and Hayley swallows. For a moment, Dahlia Eriksdottir seems to her like Death, who had already chosen her champion and was now considering her bountiful sacrifice. 

Dahlia places her hand on her heart.

"Happy Hunger Games. And may the odds be forever in your favour."


	10. We are All of Us Cursed

Ever since the start of the Hunger Games, tributes have exhibited their skills in front of the Game Makers in a final bid to earn their approval. But while the tributes fought for their lives, the Game Makers were interested in only one thing. 

Spectacle. 

Intricate frescos on the walls and ceiling immortalize famous tributes and their glorious deeds, and their gazes seem to shadow Rebekah as she approaches the high seat of the Game Makers, reminding her that even after death, her story is not her own. 

Seated at tables richly filled with appetizers and drinks, the Game Makers loom over her, regarding her with detached curiosity. She and Elijah had discussed what skills she could show them. She could complete the obstacle course to show her speed. She could take out ten opponents with her knives to show her strength. She could hunt, skin and prepare wild game to show her ability to survive in the wild. But as she stands beneath their judging gazes, it all seems irrelevant. Nothing she could show them would change the course of her fate.

The hilts of the two daggers almost slip from her clammy hands as she takes them of the rack. She grits her teeth against her nerves, and takes up position in the centre of the room. To them, she is not a person. To them, she is but a chess piece in their schemes, to be sacrificed whenever it suited them. They might control her body. But she would not let them take her heart.

She ignores the station that can generate artificial opponents. She ignores the stationary targets placed near the walls. Instead, she closes her eyes, and starts to dance.

The daggers come alive as she glides across the floor, and in her imagination, Marcel dances opposite her, matching her every move. He grins at her and spins her around, and when she is facing forward again, he is replaced by Elijah, who smiles affectionately as he teaches her her first steps. At the next twirls, Nik catches her in his arms. He laughs, eyes twinkling, and she reaches out to him with a grin. But from the corners of his mouth trickle two small streams of blood. 

With a cry, Rebekah lets the daggers fly. They pierce through the image and hit the targets on both sides of the hall dead centre. The applause of the Game Makers washes over her, but Rebekah pays it no mind. She dashes to the exit, tears blurring her vision. Outside, she is awaited by Elijah, but she pushes past him and doesn't stop until she reaches a more secluded area, where she sinks against the wall, a hand pressed against her mouth to muffle her sobs.

"Rebekah?"

Elijah's arms circle around her, and she buries her head in his shoulder with a whimper, her whole body shaking.

"I don't want to die," she gasps through her tears.

"I know."

"I don't want Nik to die."

Elijah tightens his hold.

"I know."

It's not fair. None of it is fair. She slumps against him, all her energy drained.

"We deserve to be happy, don't we?" she mumbles tiredly.

Elijah presses a kiss against her hair, but is unable to answer.

\---

The ride back to the apartment is quiet, and Nik retreats to his room as soon as they arrive. They have some time until the final interviews later that evening, so Rebekah collapses on her bed, where she tries to sleep and restore some energy. But after half an hour of tossing and turning, she gives up and storms to Nik's room.

"Rebekah!" Nik snaps as she jumps on his bed. "Look what you made me do."

He had been carving into a piece of wood, and now a large gash runs right through it. Rebekah shrugs before she flops on her back and stares at the ceiling.

Nik sighs angrily and tosses the piece of wood to the side. 

"Whatever," he grumbles. "It wasn't working anyway."

Rebekah hums.

"Did you see Katherine among the Game Makers this morning?" 

"Yes. She seemed right where she belonged."

"I never understood what you saw in her."

"Don't let Elijah hear you."

Rebekah chuckles and turns on her belly to look at him. 

"What are you wearing tonight?"

Nik shrugs.

"Do you want to pick my outfit?"

Rebekah grins and grabs his hand to pull him towards their private salon. She wishes she would never have to let him go.

\---

"You look beautiful."

Klaus Mikaelson's tone is soft and sincere, and Hayley glances at the District 1 tribute in surprise. Rebekah grins bashfully at her brother's compliment and twirls in her red dress. 

"Wish me luck?" 

"Blow them away, Sister."

Klaus presses a kiss against her cheek before she strides to the entrance of the stage. Klaus stares after her with a forlorn expression, which morphs into a scowl when he notices Hayley watching. 

"Eyes to the front, Marshall."

Hayley meets his glare, but turns to the projector when Rebekah's name is announced. The other tributes are watching the interview with varying degrees of interest and nervousness.

"Please, Rebekah, take us through that first moment," Andie Star chirps. "How did you feel when your name was called and your brother joined you on that stage?"

Rebekah pouts her lips.

"Honestly, he should have known that I can handle myself."

The audience laughs. Hayley can't help but glance at Klaus again, but his face remains passive as Andie Star nods knowingly. 

"He is your older brother. He must be very protective of you."

Rebekah inclines her head and smiles sweetly. The next questions remain superficial, and Rebekah answers them with grace, until Andie Star laughs and places her hand on her knee.

"Lovely Rebekah. My final question. If you are victorious, what would make you truly happy?"

Rebekah stills and swallows. 

"My survival," she says bitterly, "requires the death of my brother. And his survival requires mine."

She flashes a cold smile.

"I doubt if I will ever be happy."

Hayley straightens involuntarily as silence settles over the audience. The applause is decidedly less enthusiastic as Rebekah is lead off the stage. Hayley sneaks another glance at Klaus, but his grave expression holds nothing of his normal bravado.

"We're all of us cursed, Little Wolf." 

When Klaus emerges on the stage, his arrogance has returned. He sits down, hands clasped in front of him.

"It seems my sister has ruined the mood. I do apologize."

Now Hayley is paying attention, she notices the careful control to his intonation. The almost theatrical way he lounges back in the chair. The ease with which he dodges the questions and says nothing at all.

"How will you react in the arena?" Andie Star prods.

Klaus shrugs.

"As I was raised to do."

Hayley shivers. With a shock, she realizes that she would not wish to trade places with him, no matter his higher chances of survival. While her life had not been easy, at least her choices had been her own.

Aurora De Martel takes Klaus' place, and all tributes are forced in the spotlight until Hayley's name is called. Jackson gives her a reassuring pat on the back, but the roar of the audience is deafening, and she is sure that everyone can see her shaking when she collapses in the chair.

Andie Star's face is strangely plain up close. The makeup to her left eye is crooked.

"Welcome Hayley."

"Hi," Hayley whispers back.

"Now, my dear, I don't speak only for myself when I say you have surprised us all."

Hayley smiles nervously. Her hands are clammy, and she suppresses the urge to wipe them on her dress.

"Let's take another look at that one moment, shall we?"

The first exercise plays on the screens around her, showing how she had thrown her weapon at Klaus' head before tackling him to the ground. She resembles a prey in its death throes more than a trained warrior, but the screening conveniently cuts away before Klaus had retaliated.

"Beating a Career is no easy feat!" Andie Star exclaims.

"I didn't actually beat him."

"Such modesty. Not only strong, but polite too!"

The audience cheers. Hayley opens her mouth to reply, to deny it, but her words get stuck in her throat. The next questions fly by in a daze, and then she is bowing at the audience and ushered away. Immediately, she is surrounded by busy stage crew who take of her mic and lead her through a small hallway to the adjacent room, where the tributes and their mentors could watch the remaining interviews. Hayley spots her mentor in the corner and sinks down next to him, hiding her face in her hands.

When the shaking resides, she tries to focus on Jackson, but his words don't register. At least he looks handsome enough on the big screen. That might score them some points. Jackson bows to the audience and it isn't long before he steps through the door and makes his way towards her.

"That was fun," he groans. 

Hayley chuckles despite herself. 

"Should we go?" Jackson asks, and Hayley realizes that most of the other tributes have left, not bothering to watch the interviews of the less important Districts. Only Klaus and Rebekah are still there, talking quietly with their older brother and mentor, Elijah. As they stand to leave, she catches Klaus' gaze just as Elijah places a hand on Rebekah's shoulder. 

Hayley stops. The next time she would see them would be in the Arena.

"I'll be right there," she tells Jackson, before stalking over to the Mikaelsons. She stops right in front of Klaus, who leans back, arms spread over the backrests.

Hayley scowls and crosses her arms. 

"I will not back down in the Arena," she says forcefully. "I will fight. For me and for Jackson."

Klaus raises his eyebrows.

"How commendable." 

Hayley clenches her fists at her side, but before she can respond, Elijah Mikaelson intervenes.

"What Niklaus meant," he says calmly, "is that we would expect nothing less."

His dark eyes pierce into hers, and Hayley swallows.

"And I agree," Rebekah adds. "We all need to fight for those we hold dear."

Hayley shivers. They are her opponents. They would kill her without a second thought if it meant that they would survive. And yet, she cannot blame them. She will do the same. 

She lifts her chin determinedly.

"Happy Hunger Games," she says.

The voices of the Mikaelsons form a chorus as they finish the salute.

"And may the odds be forever in your favour."

\----

The final scores are announced at noon of the next day. Klaus, Rebekah and Elijah gather around the projector, but Klaus is too agitated to sit down. After the scores, all preparations would be over. There would be no more distractions. Nothing to keep his mind of the start of the Games the following day. 

The scores of District 12 are called first. They both receive no higher than a four. The next scores fluctuate between fours and sevens until Hayley Marshall is given an eight. Her score is matched by Alexander from District 5, and Aya is the first to receive a nine. Aurora and Tristan are both awarded with a ten.

Klaus tenses as Rebekah's picture emerges on the screen. 

"Rebekah Mikaelson-" the announcer reads,"-is rewarded with... a nine!"

Rebekah smiles, her shoulders shagging in relief. It was a fair score. Mikael would not be disappointed.

"And finally, Niklaus Mikaelson!"

Klaus straightens. His hands are clenched on the backrest of the couch. 

"An eleven!"

Klaus freezes. He stares at the screen before it abruptly cuts to black. Elijah tosses the remote on the couch with a little more force than necessary. His lips are drawn into a straight line and Rebekah is pale.

"It's fine," Klaus rasps, breaking the silence. "We knew the Games were rigged."

Elijah scoffs and starts pacing, one hand pressed against his forehead. 

"Tristan and Aurora were coming after us even without this score," Klaus adds. 

But his ears are ringing. His score gave Tristan and Aurora an opportunity to legitimize their allegiance with the tributes of District 4. The underdogs banding together to take down the big, bad Mikaelsons. 

"There will be help," Elijah says determinedly. "You can be sure of that."

Klaus nods, but he can't help the doubt which gnaws at him. He knows Elijah will do everything in his power to help them. But his brother cannot perform miracles. 

And surviving the Arena with the odds stacked against them would be a miracle indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted on [tumblr](https://aeruthien.tumblr.com/post/629320281850249216/because-my-mind-sometimes-just-doesnt-stop-the).
> 
> Come say hi!


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